Sickening
by Noth4219
Summary: According to Washington, Lafayette had seemed off lately. According to Mrs. Washington, Lafayette was very unwell. But according to Lafayette himself? He was fine. (Sickfic) (Warning: Blood and some angst)
1. Falling

Lafayette stood on top of a hill nearby his men as the redcoats fled with their tails between their legs. He wiped the sweat and dirt from his slightly pale face and used his gun as support to lean on.

The General rode on his white horse and made sure that his men were being tended to, and those that were injured were sent back to the medic tent. He came up next to Lafayette and dismounted, looking proud. "Son, you did well. Congratulations are in order." He said, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder.

Lafayette winced a little at the sudden impact, but smiled nonetheless, "Merci beaucoup, sir. I am thankful to be serving such a great man with many wonderful soldiers by my side." He felt like he completed some other sort of achievement when he spoke the words clearly without missing a beat. Not to mention correct grammar.

George smiled warmly and laughed lightly. "Ah, you all think of me too highly. I'm nothing without my officers who help me make the battle strategies." He said humbly.

"While that may b-.." his breath hitched, "m-may be true... you a-" The Frenchman turned from Washington to sneeze into the crook of his elbow. "E-excusez-moi..." His cheeks grew redder, well, redder than before. So much for speaking clearly.

"Oh, it's no trouble. Lafayette, you seem tired. You may retire early if you must. You must always make sure you in shape. You can't take care of your men if you can barely stand. Remember that." He advised.

"Oui, sir, I think I will..." Think was the key word there. He knew he should heed Washington's words, but he still had things to do around the camp first. "But you should do the same."

"Hm, yes, but I need to make sure all the men are alright. Everyone that was injured had been sent to the medical tent, but I'll just double check on them, and then check with the other men... Would you like to come with me?"

"Yes sir," he nodded graciously, wanting to be as useful as possible. And so the Frenchman followed his commander to the medical tent. On the way there, Lafayette just barely suppressed a coughing fit, which eventually came back and slowed his walking speed.

"Much obliged." He said kindly and as they walked, they went to the medic tents and Washington made sure each man was alright, and then he talked to the other men, speaking with each one making sure they were alright for the night and helped any way he could.

Lafayette also assisted, but his energy was draining gradually. He coughed again, hoarser than the first few times, and quicken his pace to match Washington's strides.

George walked towards their tents, which were side by side and sighed. "Well, I believe that is everyone." He sighed and looked back at the slightly shorter man. "Lafayette, are you sure you're well?" He asked him, noticing the small faults.

"Why of cou-" he cleared his throat, "Of course, sir." Laf offered a weak smile up at the elder.

His lips tightened as he peered at him with uncertainty. "Very well. But please, if something is bothering you, you can always see me about it. Have a good night, son." He said and left his tent.

"Bonne nuit, mon general," he said before entering his tent. The first thing he did upon entering was he went to his desk, responding to the letter from his wife. Time passed and Lafayette found himself studying a map in hopes to find good ground for the next battle. Hours went by without him noticing, then he fell asleep at the desk.

Lafayette was awoken by a sneeze, which caught him off guard and left him a little bit annoyed, but was happy to find the sun has just begun to rise. Looking at the map one more time, he rolled up the paper, stood, then stumbled back. Geez, he was dizzy... But he still wanted to go bring the plan to Washington before breakfast.

George was up bright and early, making sure that everyone got their breakfast, and he went back to his tent. He made sure his men ate before he did. As he got his coat on he heard a small knock at his tent curtain door and looked over his shoulder. "Come in!" He called.

Lafayette stepped in with a small smile, "Bon matinee, mon general." He bit his tongue afterward to try and keep the urge of sneezing at bay.

The General gave a warm smile and put his uniform coat on. "Good morning, Lafayette. How are you this morning?"

'Greeting death with open arms,' he thought to himself with a small sniffle. "I am doing fine, monsieur. How are you?"

"Oh, just fine. I do hope you did actually get some sleep last night and not slave over plans." He lightly scolded, eyeing him. "You have a tendency for that."

"...Aaaaabout that..." he shuffled his feet, "I did get some sleep b-" He was cut off by a couple of sneezes in his sleeve, "Pardon, but I did manage to get one plan that may work."

George raised an eyebrow at the sneezes, but didn't say anything. "Lafayette, always so over eager.." the general sighed heavily with a shake of his head. "Son, I appreciate you taking your time and using it to make your plans; but we have a certain time we do that during the morning after breakfast and prayer. I have gotten complaints from some officers, whom I will not name, but they claim that I favor your plan over theirs because you show your plans first thing before I do anything. To prove that is not true, you will show them at our morning meeting, alright?"

"Yes sir," he didn't mind waiting much, but it was the morning meeting itself that was making him anxious. The thought of eating made his stomach turn and he had a feeling he may lose focus due to the currently mild headache he had.

"Well, son, I suggest you eat soon, I will be out shortly." He was about to dismiss the younger of the two, but stopped him. "Lafayette, are you sure you're alright? You haven't gotten better since last night."

"I'm sure, sir," he gave a parting nod as he left the tent. Eating? Hah. Like that was going to happen. Plus, there was no way Washington could find he didn't... Right? No harm done. Well- none to Washington.


	2. Losing

After eating with his men, they did their morning prayer and the officers go to the main tent and they all stood around the table and George made sure everyone was there, then noticed Lafayette wasn't there and sighed. "I will be back." He wouldn't start the meeting without him. But it was so odd that Laf wasn't there. He usually was always the first one there.

Laf had let his nerve get the best of him and he screwed up his plan. He had looked it over again and decided it wasn't good enough so he changed it... and spilled ink all over the map. Lafayette wasn't too distraught over though, surely there were better plans made by the other generals. Another thing his nerves managed to do make him coughed up anything he ate yesterday, which was only his breakfast, in the corner of the tent.

Washington came knocking on Lafayette's tent curtain. "Lafayette? It's your Commander, are you here?"

"Coming!" The Frenchman called with the same enthusiasm as he normally would have, but forced. Unsteadily, he rose from the desk and staggered towards the tent flaps, "I-I'm so sorry for b-being late sir..."

The General eyed him up and down carefully. "Uh huh." He murmured nonchalantly. Something was not right. "Lafayette, you NEVER miss a meeting. In fact, you are there before anyone else is! Son, you need to tell me what is wrong this instant. That is an order." He said firmly but with a caring tone.

"I just p-panicked about my plan, sir. I came back here to try to rewrite it, but I spilled ink all over the map, so it renders useless now." He sidled past Washington and apologized again as he began to walk to the tent where the meeting was being held.

George grabbed the Frenchman wrist as he passed him. "I don't believe that for a second. Where is my healthy and energetic Lafayette?" He questioned and turned the Frenchman to him. "You have one more chance to tell the truth."

"It's the truth, sir! I can show you the map- it's soaked," he slipped back into the tent, not wanting Washington to enter and see the mess hidden in the corner, and brought back out the soiled black paper.

George eyed the paper, but he still had a face of stone. "And the coughing and sneezing?" He asked, crossing his arms and gave him a stern look.

Lafayette shook slightly under his gaze, "S-simply allergies, nothing to w-worry about," he mentally cursed himself for stuttering. "We should re-really get to the meeting..." This time, he didn't give Washington the chance to stop him as he scurried to the tent. He stumbled upon entering, getting snickers from some of the men (whom had never particularly liked him). He blushed in embarrassment and tilted his hat lower over his face, joining the group.

George watched him go carefully and sighed, shaking his head. "Honestly..." He mumbled under his breath. As he got to the main tent, they all had little discussions, but they immediately saluted and went quiet. Washington had tried to tell them there was no need for that or to call him His Excellency before, but it never did stop. He was a humble man. As they discussed the plans, his eyes went to Lafayette more than a few times.

More than a few times...

More than a few times did Lafayette have to muffle a series of coughs, and more than a few times did he receive glares from other people. More than a few times he felt his cheeks heat up. He heard some of the men whispering about him, loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for Washington to. More than a few times he readjusted his hat to hide his eyes as the tears gathering in them.

Washington ended the meeting a little early, but had Lafayette stay back. He had heard small jealous rambles from the other officers, but he chose to ignore it. "Lafayette... you are one of my trusted advisors. I trust you with my life." He said, giving him a hard state.

He bit his quivering lip and swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking, "Th-thank you, sir, happy to..." Lafayette took a small, shaky breath, "be of service." He rubbed his eyes roughly with the heel of his palm in attempt to rid himself of any evidence of sadness.

"Never in my life, would I think you would lie to me. You aren't well, you know it. I know it. I consider you as my son, Lafayette. It hurts to know that you won't tell me what is wrong with you. Have you even eaten this morning?"

"...No sir." That was the most honest thing that has come out of his mouth that morning.

His lip tightened. "...Why not, Lafayette?"

"I-I wasn't hungry..." he tugged his hat lower as if to shield himself from Washington's gaze.

George was not quite glaring at him, but his patience was thinning. "Lafayette. Eyes on me. If you are going to lie, at least make it seem like you aren't."

He pushed the hat up and uncertainly met Washington's eyes. "My apologies, Your Excellency."

George sighed slowly and shook his head. "At ease... please, I am just a general." He responded meekly and leaned forward against the table. "Lafayette... why are you trying to hide that you're sick?"

"I have already told you, sir; it is just allergies. This will pass, and you mustn't focus on this. I will be fine, and we have men that need much more care than I. Plus, I have to try and make another battle plan anyway."

George stared at him, slightly hurt by his lack of being open to him. "...Very well." He fixed his gaze away from the Marquis and folded his arms behind his back. "You may not like this... but you do worry me, son."

"There is no need for your concern to be directed at me, it should be more on the war. I am one in thousands of soldiers... it wouldn't matter if I was a casualty," he muttered the last part before clearing his throat, "Am I dismissed, sir?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, taking in a sharp breath and giving a curt nod. "Yes. You may leave, but you must eat something. That is an order from your Commander."

"Yessir," he saluted, leaving the tent. Eating would be... a hassle, but he had an order now. So he ate a bit... then it joined the vomit in the corner. Lafayette sat down in his chair, panting, now feeling completely drained. "Merde," he mumbled as he wiped the sweat from his brow and shivered. Thankfully he didn't get anything on his uniform.

After a while, the (modern major) general finished looking through his mail, making sure he wrote a letter to his wife, so she knew he was well, and then was going to check on Lafayette. "Lafayette? It's your General again," he said, knocking on the tent post.

Well shit. "O-one moment!" He had eaten about a sixth of his food, which wasn't the best but wasn't the worst either. He made sure the puke wasn't too visible before he let Washington in, but neglected to notice how pale he was. "Come in."

Washington slowly went in. "Hello." He said, then eyed the plate. "I see you've eaten," he said, even though he knew it was a bit of an understatement.

"As you ordered," he was careful picking his words. "Is there something you need me for sir?" He was eager to help, but in the back of his mind, he was unsure if he could even stand.

George noticed the slight eagerness come back and he had a small smile. Yet the elder didn't failed to notice the sickly color of the boy's face, so instead of him having him do something more active, he'd just have to improvise. "Yes. You never exactly spoke up during the meeting, and never told the group your plan. So- I'm all ears, son," he offered, sitting down in a chair that was next to Lafayette's desk.

The young Frenchman was thankful this didn't require much physical action, in a way, and began to explain his plan to the general. He sneezed multiple times and had to pause to cough occasionally, but eventually got his point through. He looked Washington, waiting for reaction.

George nodded in approval. "Very good. Your brilliance never ceases to amaze me." He complimented and slowly stood.

He blushed, "M-merci, sir... I do try."

George stood and straightened his coat. Before he left, though, he stayed put as a memory came to him, "Oh, and I just got a letter from Thomas Jefferson. We've been talking for a while ever since he got back from France. He's been telling me that I should have a party or ball of some sort. Apparently, it's a way of keeping up appearances. What do you think?"

"It is an excellent idea! It may distract people from these times of hardships and grief." He smiled genuinely for the first time in what felt like forever. He himself didn't enjoy parties (other than the booze), but he knew it would help others.

"You think so? You know me, I'm not much for parties, but if this would be beneficial, then I'll do it. Besides, Miss Washington, I'm sure, will be thrilled." He remarked with a small laugh.

His vision swam for a moment, dipping in and out from nothingness. He gripped the chair tighter to keep himself upright and paled a bit, but his smile only wavered the slightest bit as he nodded.

George opened his mouth to question the sudden foible, but the yelling outside made him pause. "Well, I'll be sure to write him our response then." He left the tent, putting his hat on, and went to see the commotion outside.

(It was just Hercules attempted to strangle Hamilton for insulting his plaid pants...)

His smile dropped when George left, and the sickening feeling in his stomach returned, but stronger. He heaved into the corner once more, whimpering between gasps. The pain was sharp and he couldn't help it when he began to sob. Soon he found his stomach had stopped making him dry-heave and he was able to get to the cot, with the help of the desk for support. Lafayette laid down, pillow hugged to his chest and blanket curled around him, then cried until he fell into a restless sleep.


	3. Finding

It was the day of the party, and Lafayette was pretty sure he heard Death knocking on his window a couple times during the night. The Washingtons had graciously let him stay at there home while the ball/party was being panned. He woke up, shaking like a leaf, and realized it was 3 hours later than he normally got up. 'Why didn't anyone wake me up?' he thought to himself, rushing to sit up... and fall back. Getting dressed would be a challenge, but he should be able to get it done. 'Should,' as in possibly. He'd just stay sitting on the bad is all. He just hoped His Excellency and Madame Washington weren't waiting on him.

There was a soft knock at the door, and behind it was Martha, with two of her maids. "Lafayette, dear? Are you awake yet?" She called.

He started to speak, but cleared his throat first, "Oui M-Madame!" Lafayette shakily pulled on a shirt and was unaware his accent was thicker. The only time that happened was when he was amongst other Frenchmen, was pretty drunk, or had a high fever. He wasn't and without alcohol so...

Martha walked through the door with a kind smile, the girls in tow. "Good morning, dear!" She greeted cheerily. "Or actually- should I say, good afternoon," she corrected with a light laugh and walked to the side of his bed. "Are you feeling alright? I went to wake you this morning, but your head felt pretty hot... Are you coming with a fever?" She asked, concerned.

"Most likely just ze heat from ze bed s'eets," he returned the smile, ignoring the darkness creeping in on the edge of his line of vision.

She wasn't exactly listening to him for she already had her frail hand against his cheek, and the other on his head. "Hm... no, you have a fever, young man." She stated, shaking her head and stood back up. "You better not keep lying to me about being sick if you know what's good for you, boy." She lightly scolded, telling the girls to change the sheets right away. Martha helped Lafayette to stand while they did so.

Laf opened his mouth to counter, but he coughed violently into his arm instead. His vision went black for a moment, then returned, causing him to sway.

Martha bit her lip as she put both hands on his shoulders to keep him stable. "Lafayette, can you even stand on your own?" She questioned, more concerned, and once the maids were done fixing the bed, she sat him back down. "I am not letting you leave this room till your better. You have a party tonight, and I want you in top shape." She declared, giving a small shake of her finger, then asked the girls to bring a towel with ice water.

Truly exhausted, he only nodded, barely suppressing a whimper of pain as he laid back down. Another cough wracked his body and he curled into some sort of ball to cover it.

She sighed and shook her head. "Lafayette, please tell me the truth when I ask this is something that you got overnight?" She asked.

It's been almost a week- or has it been already? He couldn't remember. Lafayette stayed in the small ball he had curled into as he spoke, "Yes, it is p-probably... 'ow do you call it? 1-day flew?"

Martha slowly nodded, not bothering correcting the ill boy. "Alright... I'll be back. George will want to know," she told him, uneasily.

"W-wait!" he grabbed her by the wrist. "He... 'as a lot to p-plan today. We s'ould not p-put more stress on 'im... oui?"

Martha was surprised a little at the sudden grab, and his butchered pronunciations, but she kneeled down beside the bed so he could relax his neck. "I... suppose so." She said, then looked at him. "And what should I say if he asks?"

"Tell 'im I-I had an early meeting out of t-town er... somezing..."

She arched an eyebrow. "I know you're sick, but there must be something better you can come up with," She mumbled.

He shivered and moved his arm back towards his body for any source of warmth. "S-sorry Madame..."

She shook her head and put her gentle hand on his head. "Dear, please don't apologize. Besides, I am doing most of the planning for the party, so I will check on you when I can. If he asks about you, I will just say you are feeling a little under the weather."

Lafayette sighed a little but nodded along with it. He knew Washington had been very suspicious of his well-being for the past week and he would know that this was more than a '24-hour flu.'

She nodded and had a soft smile. "Alright dear, please feel better. I will have one of the girls watch over you and if you need anything, please let them know." She said and gave the crown of his head a small kiss then left the room.

He blushed when he received the kiss, but immediately climbed under the blankets. Hugging a pillow, he nuzzled his face into it and prayed that sleep would come and whisk him away to the world of dreams. It would, but the dream wasn't one he would enjoy having...

The French boy tossed and turned in his sleep, whimpering and crying out in distress. Often the mumbled string of words would be in French and contain the names of his parents and the two people he now felt as if he could call them his parents.

He whined as he re-watched _his mother's normally warm eyes dull until they were empty. Her clammy hand became limp in his after they exchanged their last 'I love you's' to each other, though hers came out more as breath of air. Her last breath of air._

"M-mama..." Lafayette cried in his sleep, then the scene changed to a battlefield. In his mind, a blur of _every tale told to him about his father dying was put into some kind of flip book, narrated by people with names he forgot. The bullet moved painfully slow, and he had had this dream many times before so he remembered the agonizing moments that passed as the people told him who his father died valiantly. Yet there was a difference this time. When the bullet hit..._ _ **Washington was there instead.**_

He woke up screaming.


	4. Opening

George was passing by the room, reading a letter and when he heard the screaming coming from the room, he immediately ran in and to the bed, holding his shoulder firmly. "Son! SON!" He yelled, trying to calm him down.

Lafayette gasped, opening his eyes. The fear in his eyes melted into relief and pain while tears filled them. He wrapped his trembling arms around Washington and sobbed, slurring together apologizes in french.

George was a little stunned at how weak and scared the young man was, but wrapped his strong arms around him and held him close. Small clicks of heels against the hard floor were heard and the door swung open to reveal none other than Martha. "Dear, I heard some screaming is everything o-" She gasped and instantly ran in. "Oh, darling, whatever is the matter!" She cried out with worry, wrapping her arms around him also.

Lafayette soon calmed down enough to speak, even if the words didn't quite come out clear, "S'il vous... s'il vous plait... n-ne partez pas aussi... please!" he pleaded in his delirium.

Martha slipped between the two, only so her arms could hug Lafayette closer. "Of course not, love..." she whispered to him and looked at her husband with worry. The poor thing probably had a nightmare.

"Lafayette, are you alright?" Washington asked him.

Lafayette only hummed in response, letting a small hiccup escape him. His head was pounding violently all he could do hold-whoever he was holding-tightly and mumbled another apology.

Martha slowly rubbed his back and gently kissed the crown of his head. "Shh... its alright Lafayette... there is nothing to be afraid of," she whispered softly in his ear.

"Martha, what's wrong with him?" Washington asked her and she sighed.

"He had a nightmare George," she responded.

He couldn't hear them talking, for his senses were dulling. Soon he let out a breath of air and went limp in Martha's arms, face flushed with fever.

"Lafayette..?" She called softly and felt his cheeks. "Oh my, his fever is worse.." she mumbled sadly.

"Fever?" George asked and she blinked, looking at him. "It's nothing, dear. He is just a little warm," she replied and he nodded slowly.

Lafayette's mind was nicer to him this time, and he slept soundly. He dreamed of nothingness; everything was a blissful black.

Martha heard a soft snore and sigh from him and she had a small laugh. "The boy is asleep..." she whispered and slowly laid him back down, but not putting the covers on him because of his fever. Standing up, she motioned for her husband to follow her out of the room.

When he woke up, he was lucky to have the bucket next to his bed to throw up in. Once his stomach settled, he sat up, swayed for a moment, then went to go check the time. There was only a half an hour before the party, and he felt like he had been trampled by a horse. Nonetheless, he began to get dressed for the party.

A gentle knock was heard at the door. "Lafayette dear? It's Martha, are you awake yet?" She asked.

Lafayette wiped the sweat from his brow and peered in the mirror. He was deathly pale and the bags under his eyes were dark, but his smile was convincing. He supposed that was an up. "Oui, Madame! Un m- Uh o-one moment!" Pulling on his shirt, and speaking in the correct language, he turned back to the door, "Come in!"

Martha walked in, wearing an Exquisite dress. Beautiful enough to look like a queen. She smiled warmly at him and closed the door behind her. "How are you, dear?" She asked him, making him lean down to her small and petite frame. "Oh my, you are pale as snow!" She exclaimed, cupping his face as she examined him.

"But I feel f-fine now, Madame," he countered, but couldn't stop himself from shivering to go against his point.

She pursed her lips. "Lafayette please stop lying. It breaks my heart seeing you like this," she said, sounding pained.

Lafayette saw the look in her eyes and sighed, closing his, "I'm just a bit nauseous is all, I should be fine for the party." In all honest, he himself didn't actually like parties. They had dancing, lots of people talking, and way too many crowds. The only good thing that came out of them was wine. He would be much more useful back at camp; Planning and training and fighting and- Wow, did he really think war was better than a party?

...

Yes, yes he did.

Martha sighed in defeat, "Alright dear. I had your uniform cleaned and pressed. I want you looking your best tonight, and also to have fun. This is a time for you boys to relax from that blasted war." She told him, pulling out his uniform in the closet and laid in on the bed.

"Merci beaucoup Mam- M-Madame!" he stammered quickly and moved briskly towards the bed in hopes to hide his now bright red face.

 _'She is not your mother. She does not want to be your mother. Your mother is dead. And maybe she didn't want to be your mother either-'_ The unpleasant thoughts raced through his head and tried to break his walls and make him crumpled into a sobbing heap. But he kept his walls up while the thought made cracks in his walls, in his dam, and threaten to spill out the water. _'You have no mother. Get over it already.'_

As she was flattening the small creases, she stopped, hearing the small slip up from him and about-faced. "What were you about to call me dear?" She asked him, but not in an angry way, more curious.

"M-ma'am... I was going to say, ma'am," he winced at his voice cracking at the beginning of the statement, but he finished the sentence strong. Lafayette was shaking more now, biting his tongue in an attempt to get himself out of his head. It wasn't working.

Martha's eyes saw right through the white lie and stepped towards him. "La-" she stopped herself, speaking with a more gingerly tone. "Gilbert. Do you see me as..?" She asked.

His chest felt tight, "I-I'm so sorry, Madame Washington. I didn't mean to- Well I do see yo- Mon dieu, I'm so stupid..." He rambled as he took about 3 steps back away from Martha with his hands on his head. He could still hear his mother singing in his mind.

 _"Frere Jacque... Frere Jacque... Dormez-vous, dormez-vous..."_

...It made him want to scream.

Martha saw him, he still looked so weak and frail like the young man he was. She quickly stepped closer to him and cupped his cheeks. "Listen to me. You are NOT stupid. Don't you EVER try to belittle yourself." She said firmly, but her voice was soft. "You are an intelligent, handsome, and brave young man." She said sweetly to him, hopefully calming him down.

"I-I..." Lafayette hugged her, "Thank you... so much..." His voice was low and he let a few tears slipped down his cheeks.

Martha smiled lovingly and held him close to her, making him lean down because she was a small bean. "Of course, dear... George and I worry about you, you know? We want was is best for you," she said gently and slowly wiped his years away. "Lafayette, we think of you as our son..."

"I never thought I could be so blessed to have you and His Excellency think of me in such a way." This was the most emotional he's been since, well, it felt like forever.

Martha chuckled lightly and gently cupped his face, making sure his cheeks were dry. "Oh, sweetheart... I Would be honored to have you, and call you as my own. You are mannered, skilled, and such a nice boy," she beamed.

The Frenchman blushed, "M-merci, Madame... I'm..." Oh, fuck English. "flatté!"

She smiled warmly. "Mother." She softly corrected him and gently kissed his cheek. "Oh, and dear..? If I may ask, what was your nightmare about?"

Lafayette swallowed. 'Mother,' he thought and thankfully kept himself from shuddering. "I... I can't really remember..."

 _'You can't remember her limp body? Her cold, sweating hands and her pale white face?'_

"It's kind of a blur..."

 _'Every time you imagined your father from the stories, the bullet moved so slow... You couldn't have missed it. And that shooter sure didn't. Wonder if next time you'll be able to see Washington get shot. Will it be just as slo-'_

"S-sorry..."

 _'Damn right you should be.'_

He didn't realize how badly he was shaking until the damn voice stopped antagonizing him.

"Oh dear, why are you shaking?" She asked, her voice raising a little. "Please calm down love, if you don't remember, that is perfectly fine!" She told him, resting her palm on his cheek and he was breaking out in a cold sweat. "Oh Lafayette... you are still so very ill..." she said gravely.

He moved away from her touch, "I'll b-be fine... Mama." He finished with slight uncertainty. The world stuttered, it was all like static. Martha's stunning dress was replaced with yet another breath-taking one, but that wasn't the reason his breath was gone. The figure was taller than Martha and undeniably looked like him... The static let him see his mother smile, but cruel enough to cover her eyes. Her lively, bright brown eyes that he missed so much. The scene passed and Lafayette's mind returned to reality, and he just wanted to get in bed to dream of his parents, both pairs, alive and well together. 'My mother would have loved you' he almost said, almost.

Martha was a little hurt when he pushed her touch from him, but her heart nearly melted when he spoke as she smiled ear to ear about it. "Okay dear... if you say so..." she said hesitantly and hugged him. "Now come on, let's get you dressed," she said in a chipper mood, trying to lighten him up.

Lafayette wished his smile was more genuine, but his thoughts since he woke up have been nothing but depressing, it seemed. He let her help him pull on his coat, which was looked somewhat bigger since he had lost weight from the lack of food he has been able to keep down.

"Here we go," she said, having him hold his arms out as she dressed him, putting the coat on him and straightened it out, then buttoned two of the middle buttons and smiled, clasping her hands together. "Oh Lafayette, you look absolutely handsome." She complimented.

He examined himself and his smile became more natural, "Thank you." He responded, then took a little bow and looked up at her with a goofy grin.

She lightly giggled at his goofy grin. "Try not to charm too many of my lady guests tonight, hm?" She asked playfully, knowing his rep around women.

Heat rushed to his cheeks and he glanced away from Martha. "I am a married man, so stop me if I do charm a woman under the influence of alcohol... or of friends," he laughed.

She crossed her arms. "You can be sure that I will, Lafayette. George knows PERFECTLY well what would happen if I found him 'charming' another woman." She said with a smile, but it was a somewhat intimidating tone. The door slowly creaked open. "Martha dear? The guests are- Oh, Lafayette, it's good to see you up and standing." George said with a smile as he walked in. "Oh hello, dear. We were just talking about you."

"Bonsoir, sir," he greeted with a smile, "*insert Lafayette somehow telling George he looks handsome without sounding gay here*"

"Thank you, son. But please any compliment to me should be going towards my lovely lady as well. She insists on what I am wearing now," he said and Martha put her hands on her hips.

"And is there something wrong with me taste, Mr. Washington?" She asked, only play fighting with him and the man had a smile as he walked to her.

"Of course not, Miss Washington." He hummed and kissed her cheek, making her light up.

Lafayette smiled at the pair, now wondering how his biological parents interacting. Had they been like this? Did they fight a lot? His thoughts were cut off by the familiar yelling of his friend, John, followed by shouts of denial and laughing from Alexander. His guess was either Alex had taken his ribbon out of his hair or made a horrendous joke about turtles. Or both.

"...That's what I came to talk to you about," George mumbled.

She sighed, "At it again, hm?"

"At least it's not Hamilton and Jefferson... then again, Thomas hasn't arrived yet," George said tiredly.

Martha giggled lightly and shook her head. "Oh, I will handle them, George. I can handle you, can't I?" She lightly teased and he sighed, looking at her, and as if instantly his mind was at ease.

"You're right once again, Martha," he said lovingly and glanced at Lafayette and was a little embarrassed at his affection. "Forgive me, uh- Lafayette why don't you take the missus downstairs, and I'll be right down. There is something I need from my office."

"Shall we?" the Marquis offered his arm.

Martha smiled kindly at Lafayette and wrapped her arm around his. "Thank you, dear." She said then stared at George straight in the eye. "George. This is a dinner party. And what is our rule?" She asked him and his lips tightened.

"...no business?" He answered slowly and she nodded.

"Yes. This is a time for you to relax, and I MEAN it. If it is so important, wait till most of the guests have gone." She said firmly.

"Of course, Martha." He said, hesitantly. For her height, she was still intimidating.

Lafayette couldn't help but chuckle at them, but then he remembered his own plan. If he couldn't get a hold of John, Alex, or Hercules, he was going to come back to his room to respond to letters and plan. But that was after he'd have a drink.


	5. Hiding

Martha walked out the room and down the hall, then down the stairs and said hello to all of the guests, and then made her way over to Hamilton and Laurens, who seemed like their argument was getting heated. "Hello, boys! Is something the matter?" She asked, smiling. Both of the grown men stiffened upright as they saw her.

"M-Missus Washington!" John exclaimed, in a nervous ramble as he tried to explain themselves.

"W-we were just um... trying to decide if a tortoise or a turtle was b-better, ma'am," Alexander quickly told her while twirling John's ribbon between his fingers.

"Oh? Is that all?" She asked, raising a brow

John pursed his lips then pointed a finger at Alexander. "He took my ribbon!" He cried, childishly.

"I d-don't have it! You probably just lost it," he cried, shrugging his shoulders which revealed the ribbon in his hand. He glanced at it nervously, "H-how did that get there?" Alexander 'casually' started to walk away, whistling. Moments later he broke into a run to try and escape John and Mrs. Washington.

Even though Alex tried to sprint, Martha grasped the collar of his coat and tugged him back. "You get back here this INSTANT, young man!" She scolded and heard his protests but kept tugging him back. "Hold your tongue!" She snapped. "Now John, is that your ribbon?" She asked and he nodded.

"Ma'am yes, ma'am." He said, and when she wasn't looking, John gave Alex a smug look and stuck his tongue out at him.

"Alexander? Give him the ribbon back and apologize." Martha said sternly, her glare at him was made of steel.

"Y-yes ma'am!" he stuttered fearfully, handing over the ribbon to John, who began tying up his hair again. "Sorry ba- J-John." Meanwhile, Hercules was laughing his ass off watching.

John gave a curt smile and nodded. "It's no trouble, Alexander." He replied, being extra because Martha was standing there.

She smiled and nodded in approval. "Thank you, gentlemen. Now please enjoy the party. And for God sake's, BEHAVE."

"Yes ma'am!" they exclaimed in unison. They walked away, then Alex whispered in John's ear, "How about we go over there and I'll show you how to behave.~"

He grabbed his collar and tugged the slight man closer to him. "Not if I beat you to it first, tough guy," he purred, and they quickly ran off, looking for somewhere quiet to... yeah.

Lafayette watched the pair rushed off and shook his head. Those lovers never changed. He made his way through the large room and caught sight of Hercules, who was shamelessly flirting with women, not to his surprise, and he knew he should leave him be. With all the people he was going to talk to gone, he started to walk over to the table with the drinks... when he got pulled into a dance.

No problem, he could probably get a drink later...

Problem was, he couldn't dance.

Of course, he had to stay in it with his partner but he felt the bile climbing up his throat from the constant spinning. A single clap signaled a change in dance partner so Lafayette whirled around to leave, he hit into another man. The man glared down at him so Lafayette pointed off into one direction, "Mon dieu! A turkey!" The man turned around, which made Lafayette giggle at how gullible he was, and ran off. He paled, willing down the little stomach acid successfully, then regained a bit of color.

As Lafayette made his way through the groups of people and stifled a sneeze in his sleeve. Being sick and all the different perfumes the women were wearing was making his nose tickle like crazy. He sneezed again, then again, stifling both, and felt himself blush as people started peeking over at him... then he sneezed once more.

At least he was almost at the refreshment table...

"Lafayette, dear? Lafayette!" Martha called to him. She had been making small talk with the guests and noticed Lafayette looking a little out of place.

Lafayette's eyes snapped up to meet Martha's gaze, then he smiled sheepishly. He waltzed over to Martha and smiled bright, internally trying to calm his rapid beating heart, "Bonsoir!"

Martha happily walked to him and gave him one of those tight, bone crushing hugs, then stepped back. "Are you enjoying yourself, dear? Your face seems a little flushed."

He squeaked when he was pulled into the hug. "I am, Mama. I just had a little incident while dancing for I have-" he paused in thought, "How you say? Two right legs?"

Martha blinked, not getting what he was saying at first, then started to laugh behind her hand. "O-Oh my..." she smothered her small laugh. "Dear, I would have guessed you had dance lessons when you were little, yes?" She asked.

"I guess I was beyond help," he shrugged. To be honest, he was quite self-conscious about his ability to dance, but he felt... safe talking to Martha.

"Oh my," she giggled and gently patted his chest. "Well darling, if you don't want to dance, why don't you just accompany me?" She suggested.

He would have loved nothing more, but he figured she must have offered it out of pity. He couldn't seem to shake off his darker thoughts, "Only if you so wish; I'm pretty sure Hercules will find a way to blow up something depending on the level of drunk he's on otherwise."

"Hm?" She hummed curiously, looking around and saw him, fumbling a little and sighed. "Oh goodness... I will be sure the staff limits his drinks," she said and gently held his hands. "Lafayette, you're doing very well tonight. George and I are very proud of you," she beamed.

"I am glad," he grinned broadly. Yet before he could say anything else, he yanked his hands away and turned a little, sneezing into his sleeve. "P-pardon..."

She excused him and smiled, "Well, c'mon! There are still plenty of people to talk to! Mr. Jefferson has just arrived as well, let's go speak with him." She grabbed his sleeve (that he didn't sneeze him) and walked along swiftly.

He stumbled, but hastily recovered to match her pace, "Of course." The man in the magenta suit was pretty much impossible to miss.

"Thomas!" She called to him, and the man turned and had a charming smile.

"Ah, the lady of the hour," he gushed, taking her hand and lightly kissed it. "How are you this evening, Miss Martha?" He asked and she smiled, a little flustered.

"Oh, very well, thank you, Thomas." She said, then his eyes went to Lafayette.

"Bonsoir, Lafayette." He said with a curt smile.

"Salut Monsieur Jefferson, comment ça va?" he gave him the same smile, but his eyes betrayed his attempted sassiness with joy to see his old friend.

"Pretty well!" the Southerner switched back to English, "I understand that Hamilton was invited, hm? Well, I've decided to be the better man and leave my business at home, and come here to just enjoy myself."

Martha stiffened. "How... considerate of you, Thomas." She said through her teeth, but his haughtiness really started ground her gears.

This time, his eyes matched his emotion. He narrowed them and looked between the pair, "I'm... going to go make sure Hercules doesn't find a spoon to stab someone with. And yes, I meant spoon. He's done it before."

Mrs. Washington and Thomas watched him go in confusion, but didn't question it.


	6. Yelling

Lafayette sighed as he squeezed through the crowd again, pardoning himself when he bumped into someone and slipped up the stairs. He made it to the top and was able to successfully make it to his room. The moment after he closed the door, he broke into a sneezing fit, perfume still bothering him. It passed and he let himself slid onto the floor. It was official, he hated parties. He was much better in war than at dancing or really anything at the party. Making his way over to his desk, he began to reply to the couple of letters on it.

Meanwhile, George was busy shaking hands and making small talk with the guests, then decided to look for Lafayette. When he couldn't find him in the crowds of people, he decided to check his room and lightly knocked. "Lafayette, are you in here? It's your General."

Lafayette stiffened at his desk, unsure if he wanted to respond or not. He had become comfortable with the distant music and muffled chatter from his room, where only a single candle on his desk was lit. So he stayed silent and continued to write, careful to keep quiet, and hoped Washington would leave.

When there was no answer, he lightly chewed on his lip and slowly left. 'Maybe I just missed him downstairs?' he thought.

Laf heard the footsteps leave, he let out a sigh of relief and continued to work. A few times he moved away from his work when his coughing became too harsh but other than that he worked relatively well... for a while. After awhile he found the map more and more difficult to work with and frustration was getting the better of him. His hands were shaking and eventually, he threw the quill against the wall with a cry of anger. Tears filled up in his eyes. Why was he so damn useless? Why the hell was he crying? He felt like a child as he slid onto the floor and sobbed, not hearing his commander's returning footsteps. Hey, at least he locked the door.

"Lafayette, I know you're in there! Open up, please!" Washington practically pleaded, trying to unlock the door.

Lafayette had had his hands tangled in hair, then they had moved to his arms and long nail and scratch marks lined them. His body shook violently as he sat there, thought Washington's voice silenced him completely but his body shook worse. He bit on his hand in attempt to help stay quiet and prayed he'd just forget about him and leave again.

"Lafayette, open this door!" He commanded sternly. "That is an order from your commander! You are worrying Martha and I. I am starting to think that you have more than just a simple fever..."

As if on cue, he broke into a coughing fit, gasping between coughs. It subsided, and he glanced at the door with a whimper. His legs felt weak under him and he wasn't sure if he could even make it to the door.

George sighed, trying to keep calm. "Lafayette if something is wrong, you have every right to come and tell me. I've always thought of you as my actual son. You remind me so much of myself when I was younger..."

Lafayette shakily gripped the edge of his desk and pulled himself to his feet. Tears still fell down his cheeks and he hiccuped, but he stumbled towards the door. He opened it slowly, not sure if he really wanted his commander to see him in such a weak state.

George immediately walked in, looking him over and sighed sadly. "You poor boy..." He uttered under his breath and checked him over. "What's wrong, son?"

What wasn't wrong? He was on the brink of a panic attack and he couldn't see straight. Was anything right? Externally, he pulled down his sleeves over his scratched up arms and wrapped them around himself, continuing to stare at the ground. He had never felt so ashamed.

George gave a soft glare. "Son, you listen here. I'm not going to stand here and have you remain stubborn and disrespect me. Must I get Martha? Believe you me, she is FAR worse when it comes to interrogating,"

"M-my apologies, sir..." he winced at the sound of his own voice, his throat felt raw so it came out weak. Slowly, his hand crept up his sleeve and his dug his nails into his arm again. He cleared his throat before speaking this time, "I am just a little out of it tonight, sir. No need to worry" Another prayer in his mind went to George not noticing the papers scattered on his desk or how fake his smile was... or his hand torturing his arm

George's eyes were focused on his face. "A LITTLE out of it? Why are you even in here?" He asked, and happened to glance at the papers on the desk then gazed back at him with heavy disappointment. "Son... what is our rule?"

He bowed his head and swallowed, nails deep enough now to possibly draw blood, "N-no business... But s-sir I-" he was cut off.

"But sir NOTHING! Lafayette why are you doing this to yourself? First, you refuse to take a break and rest at the camp, and NOW you are still unwell and I host this party for my officers and officials, to hopefully take everyone's mind off the war. And here you are, still slaving over battle plans!" He barked bitterly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it, not wanting to be more of a disappointment than he already was. He felt a sticky substance under his nails and figured it was blood, but didn't care.

The weary general sighed and shook his head, then noticed how harsh the boy was gripping his arm and stepped forward. "What are you doing?" He question his, quickly taking his arm to not allow him to withdraw. Upon seeing the scratches and noticing the red areas that were almost open and blood was coming from them, his eyes widened, in shock and horror. "Lafayette, where did these come from?" He swallow, his throat dry, "You..you don't have anything to do with these, correct..?"

"I...I'm s-sorry..." he pulled his arm away from George, shaking again. Why couldn't he ever do anything right? He took a step back, "I-I'll be fine here, you should g-go enjoy yourself. I'll be... I... I'm fine." Lafayette made eye contact which only made his tremors worse, but offered a smile nonetheless.

George couldn't believe it. He had too many emotions. Anger. Sadness. Bitter. Scared. He sucked in a sharp breath and slapped Lafayette upside the head and stared at him coldly. "Disrespectful. We try to help you get better and take care of you, and you are in here, HARMING yourself, and won't even accept our help!" He yelled, upset as his eyes watered.

Lafayette clenched his fists, then unclenched them, willing away to urge to burst into tears. He knew if he kept talking to George he'd say something he'd regret. So he hurried past him, and down the hall where he saw a man just... standing there, looking down at all the guests from a balcony opposite from the way Washington went. He had heard Washington yell something at him as he left, but everything toned out around him when he saw the man move his hand to his hip, where he had a gun.

Washington bit his lip, somewhat regretting slapping him, but hopefully, his point would get across. He went down the steps, not knowing that his fate may lie in the boy he just hit's hands, and kept walking. But as soon as he got to the bottom, he heard someone running towards the balcony behind him made him turn, wanting to see if it was the Marquis. Instead, he watched a man cocked and he froze...

Though the Virginian didn't know at that moment that the rapid incoming footsteps may just be his only of living another day.

 **A/N**

 **I am gradually getting worse with my writing... yaaaaaay**


	7. Fighting

Lafayette raced back to his room and grabbed his sword as quickly as his feet would carry him. The gun cocked but the man turned the flintlock pistol to block the sword from slicing him in half. It was like fencing, but with a sword and a gun. Each attempt to attack was blocked and eventually, the two were pushing against each other's weapon with brute force.

The spy, who was more muscular, not to mention healthier, than the Marquis, pushed Lafayette to the floor and the sword fell about a foot away from him. He rolled to the side to, barely, avoid a gunshot that would have surely killed him. In a moment of desperation, the Frenchman flung the heel of his boot up and kicked the redcoat where the sun doesn't shine. He grabbed his sword above him and pointed it up-

He wished he hadn't.

The sword had made an arc and Lafayette had blindly slit the man's throat. The British man coughed up blood, sputtering and gasping. The Frenchman got to his feet and stared in horror. He knew he shouldn't let the man suffer, no matter what he had intended to do to his…

' _He's not your father, he doesn't want to be your father.'_

Commander.

Lafayette, hesitantly, stabbed him in the stomach, hoping to put him out of his misery. The man fell to the floor and twitched, so, with his sword over his head, arms shaking and tears running down his face, he impaled the sword in the man's head. Finally, Lafayette stumbled back and clasped the hand that wasn't covered in blood over his mouth. His stomach lurched and he had never ran so fast in his life as he left the corpse, his sword, and the stunned crowd to return to his room and closed the door once more. The echo of the door slamming was the only sound in the home.

Everyone was silent. Martha came running for George. "GEORGE!? George, what the devil has happened!?" She exclaimed, and George was quick to block her sight from the bloody body on the floor, but she got a quick look and screamed, covering her mouth.

"Martha, contain yourself!" George yelled as she was crying, her lady friends quickly comforted her. Washington had the men take the body to the back and dump it.

"Dear… where is Lafayette..?" She whimpered.

"He is upstairs in his room- Martha, he protected me..!" He said a little astonished and Martha's eyes widened.

"What..? Oh, my GOD!" She exclaimed, and immediately ran up the stairs, thinking the absolute worse case and threw open the doors. "GILBERT?! Gilbert, my son, are you alright?!" She asked frantically running to him.

Aside from the fact he just puked in a bucket and was shaking like a leaf, he claimed to be fine. "I've k-killed men with a sword before, Mama... Th-this isn't a-anything new. My deepest apologies f-for letting you see th-that," he said, wiping his mouth on the 'not-so-covered-in-blood' sleeve.

Martha threw her arms around him, not caring that he was bloody and sick. "Love, don't apologize... you are our nation's hero!"

"Yeah... hero," he forced a smile and pushed back from the hug. "I should r-really change." Washington was furious with him and he had killed a man at a party that was supposed to calm people. He had ruined so much- Martha deserved a son like Hamilton... The only good thing that came out of any of this was no one else was hurt or killed.

"Dear..." She pleaded softly as she gently grasped his arm. "You've pushed yourself so much tonight... please rest?"

Sure. At an inn, away from this house, away from the party, away from... his problems. "I promise, Mama, but I still need to change..."

"Very well sweetheart... there are fresh shirts in this drawer." She said quietly, walking to the dresser and pulled out a shirt for him and helped him unbutton, then slide the new shirt on.

"Merci beaucoup..." he murmured, hugging her again. "Bonne nuit, Mama."

Martha smiled warmly and hugged him back, trying her best to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "Good night, my love... you know where my room is if you need anything, and I don't care what time of night it is, please come and ask me, alright?"

He didn't exactly hear her, falling asleep in her embrace.

Martha smiled softly as she heard a small snore from her and gently kissed his head and tucked him in with a sigh, then turned around when she heard the floorboards creek. "George..." She said quietly, then turned back to the sleeping Frenchman.

"The boy saved my life..." he said, looking at the Marquis as well.

Martha frowned but nodded slowly. "I know... for that I'm extremely grateful." She said quietly, gently stroking the young man's cheek, then noticed the small scratches and scabs on his arm. "Dear...what are these from?" She asked him, deeply concerned.

"...He did that to himself... with his nails," He hesitated to speak at first and Martha's expression of worry and surprise made some sort of guilt pool in his stomach

Martha swallowed dryly and looked back down at Lafayette. "Damn this war..." She whimpered softly, her eyes burning with angry tears as they fell down her face. "Damn it to hell..."

George swiftly walked over and pulled her into a loving, but gentle, embrace, "After the storm is a rainbow, my love... but we may soon reach the storm's eye." He wiped her tears and gave her a tender kiss on the lips, "The storm will pass."

Martha cried into his chest softly, still not wanting to wake up the croissant. "I know, I know... but..." She stopped and sighed, looking up at him. "George, I want this nightmare to end… I could've lost BOTH of you today..." her frail hands shook a little.

"The important thing is that you didn't lose either of us," he tucked a loose hair behind her ear and smile softly down at his in admiration. "When was the last time I told you how beautiful you are?"

Martha had a faint smile and slowly stood with him, holding his hands. "At least every night I have you with me, dear..." She said lightly and her smile grew a little.

"And I mean it every time," he confirmed with a kiss on her forehead. In the bed, a small cough that made George's shoulders tense, but he eased when he realized it was only the Frenchman. He noticed that Lafayette had moved to curl into a ball, shivering, so he put the back of his hand on Lafayette's forehead.

Martha hugged her small arms around her husband and looked up at him. "George, I am telling you... the boy is sick. Greatly."

"He's much worse than he claims, that's for sure. His fever is high..." he moved his hand away when Lafayette squirmed again. "We shouldn't be letting him out of bed."

"George," she said, looking up at him. "He will still be stubborn. Commander or not, he won't care what you say. Or me!"

"Unless he wants to die from this then he'll listen to us. And he does tend to listen if I address him with orders, so all we can do is hope he still listens."

Martha closed her eyes, stubbornly keeping her tears back. "George... may I ask you something?"

"...Yes?" He turned back to her and cupped her cheek, "What's wrong?"

"I... I want to adopt him.." she mumbled quietly. "You know that I can't have children so... I want him. And he'll have us."

"Martha," he kept his voice low, but smiled, "you know I've always seen him as a son." Then his smile wavered, "But in the end, it's up to him..." George stole a glance at Lafayette, silently hoping the boy would accept their offer when he awoken.

Martha nodded slowly and then gave him a smile. "Come on, dear... I think you need to get to bed, also."

"I suppose you're right," he pulled her into a kiss, "As always, my dearest."

She kissed him back softly and then pulled back, taking his hand and walked with him out of the room.


	8. Running

Around midnight, Lafayette groaned softly and awoke with a tremor in his body. He sat up, trying to remember had happened through his foggy mind. Then bits and pieces hit him like a brick. George yelling, Martha screaming... and the dead, bloody body before him. He swallowed the bile and the sob crawling up his throat and stood, but swayed feverishly. In a messenger bag, he threw his clothes, the map, paper, and his money that he had into it. Lafayette sat at his desk and shakily began to write-

 _'Cher Monsieur et Madame Washington, I am sorry to depart so suddenly, but I can not stay here any longer.'_ He paused with his hand trembling, which made the writing look uncertain and shaky. _'I have inconvenienced you enough already and I can not stand to be a burden to you any longer. I will be more useful in war, ending up as a casualty or not, than I will here. My deepest apologies for seeming disrespectful and ungrateful. I did not mean to come off this way-'_ He didn't notice he was crying until the tears smudged the ink a bit and stained the paper a darker color. _'-for I am in you debt for your hospitality. Thank you so much for everything you have done, and may we see each other again. Je t'aime beaucoup ~Laf'_

He read over the note once before packing the ink jar and quill as well. Throwing on his spare cloak, he made his way out the window, with one last look at the room, and down the tree. His horse was in the stable outside, and all he had to do was ride to town, stay in the inn for the night, and head out to find the nearest American camp.

Martha woke up early that day, and laid out her husbands clothes for him, then helped the staff with breakfast. She didn't know how she was going to bring up the subject, but she wanted to pop the question to Lafayette. He was a young man who could make his own decisions, but she would unintentionally treat him like he was a lot younger. She walked down the hall, and gently knocked on the door, then slowly opened it. "Lafayette, dear..? Are you awake ye-" She froze, not seeing him in the bed. It was almost as if he was never there. She quickly walked into the powder room that was linked to the bedroom, and started to panic.

"Lafayette, where are you?" She yelled out, then saw the note on the bed and quickly walked over to it, snatching it and read it as quickly as her eyes could register the words. "O-Oh lord..." She whimpered, putting a hand over her mouth and started to shake. "G-GEORGE?!" She exclaimed, and instantly the man came running down the hall.

"Martha what's wr-" He stopped once he saw the empty room, and looked at his wife, about to ask the question, but she just quickly showed him the note.

"George... where could he have gone? Your troop doesn't leave till another 2 weeks!" She cried out, scared for him and he shook his head.

"I don't know, dear..." He tried to remain calm and strong for the both of them, but he was also concerned for the boy.

"George please... please, you must find him and bring him back!" She pleaded, and he nodded.

"I will check everywhere, darling..." He said, hugging her close to his chest and she clung to him, trying not to cry.

Lafayette found himself unable to get out of bed. His body ached and the world was fuzzy and unclear around him. So he laid there, shaking, sweating, coughing and vomiting, with some hope he'd be well enough later to ride out of the town. A few times he almost started crying, thinking about the family he left behind… It was the second family he had had, and now, possibly, the second one he lost.


	9. Rise Up

George rode into the town and knew he should at least check with the inn that was somewhat on the outer part of the town. If anyone had come in recently the man who ran the inn would know. George walked into the inn, and took his hat off respectfully. "G-General Washington!" The innkeeper exclaimed, absolutely in shock and George gave a nod.

"Good morning, sir." He said humbly.

"Wh-what can I do you for, sir?" He asked, almost shaking because he was so excited that THE general was visiting his inn.

"I came in search for the Marquis de Lafayette. I understand that possibly he took room here?" Washington asked and the man nodded.

"Yes… he is here. But he registered under a different name. I didn't ask questions because he seemed rather sick… sir, is he alright?" The innkeeper asked and Washington shook his head slowly.

"No. He isn't. That's why I'm here. My wife has been trying to take care of him at our home because my troop and I leave. What room is he in?" He asked and the innkeeper motioned to the stairs.

"Up the stairs, last door on the right." "Thank you kindly, sir." George said politely and slowly walked up the stairs, and to the last door, then knocked.

He opened one eye at the incoming footsteps and, after a few attempts, he sat up. When he heard a knock his door, fear pulsed through his veins. Lafayette hadn't changed his clothes, so he pull on his bag, in case he needed to run, and picked up his sword. As he stood, he almost fell, but grabbed the nightstand to help him. He was quite surprised that he was standing, let only holding his sword, and slowly made his way towards the door. The person knocked again as Lafayette got closer, and paused at the sound. At last, he made it to the door with his sword pointed forward.

With one last swallow, he threw open the door, prepared to attack, but caught his foot on his cloak and tripped. The Frenchman, rather ungracefully, fell back and the sword clattered to the floor. He realized it was Washington, and the only reaction he could give was fear. He scrambled back until his back was against the end of the bed and curled into tiniest ball he could. He had his hands tangled in his hair, pulling it tightly in his trembling grasp, and threw out apologies at record speed in French and English between sobs and coughs.

Washington was at a loss for words, but quickly walked in and shut the door behind him because he heard people coming up the steps. He quickly hushed the boy, coming to him and wrapped his arms around his shaking form, trying to calm him down. "Son… shh, calm down," He whispered.

"J-je sui- I'm so so so sorry-" He desperately tried to pull away from the embrace, but to no avail. "You sh-shouldn't be here- You'll get sick t-too... I'm sorry, you have to leave and Martha needs you but why are you here? I'm so damn useless right now I belong in the fucking grave I've disappointed you so much but you are still here- Why are you still here with someone like me..?" His words were rushed out as he cried, but the rant ended with a violent coughing fit that made him want to crawl into a hole and die. More than usual.

George shook his head. "Lafayette. Shut your mouth." He ordered gently and moved him more onto the bed. "Martha needs both of us. She wants- we both want you back home. It's your home to, you know that. Son, our troops are not leaving for another few weeks. Why are you leaving? You are STILL not well. The more you push yourself, will not help your situation. It will only make it worse. You are coming back home. Don't make me use force."

"B-but... You said it yourself," he felt like he could shatter into a million pieces, and his outward appearance didn't hide that, "I've been nothing but disrespectful since I arrived and b-besides- Like I've said before, o-one more casualty is nothing against" he swallowed, nails digging into his arm once more "the hundreds of other, s-sir..." There were many more marks on his arm since the time he left, including bites marks. His nails went deeper when he felt Washington's gaze boring into him.

Washington grasped his hand and pulled it away. "Enough of that!" He commanded, trying to keep a level head, but he was overwhelmed with emotions, he couldn't. "You were disrespectful; not wanting our help- but that does not mean we want you to leave the house. Martha has given you unconditional love! Lafayette, do you understand what that means? Son, you've protected me, even after you and I had that little fight. You are worth to me so much more than you realize, young man."

Lafayette shrank away from Washington's grasp and stared down at the hand George had been holding. His shoulders shook as he bit his lip, not wanting to cry again, but a single hiccup caused him to go right back into crying, repeating his apologies.

He sighed lightly, not exactly knowing what to do; this was something Martha was almost a professional at. "C'mon son… I'm taking you home." He said, helping the sick Marquis stand.

He walked next to Washington, sobs dying, and was really trying not to lean on George too much, but not too far down the hall did he realize that he wouldn't get far without his help. His head had a steady rhythm that made the world teeter and fade in and out of darkness. Once at the stairs, Lafayette gripped the door frame for dear life and kept his eyes shut tight.

George quickly moved him down the stairs the best he could, and walked out the door, with a small wave to the innkeeper, then to the horses. He managed to lift the boy onto the saddle and got behind Laf so he could help him balance.

"Can you st-steer like this..?" he asked, glancing back at him.

The taller man nodded. "Yes, Lafayette." The horse started to trot away and he had Laf lean against him so he wouldn't lose his balance. The poor boy hardly felt like he weighed a thing.

Guilt weighed heavy on him as they approached the home. He wondered how Martha was going to react...

As they came back to the house, George got off first, and helped Lafayette down, then went slow to make sure that Laf could keep up. They went up the steps and as soon as the door opened, Martha came running down the hall. "GILBERT!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

The Major yelped, but just barely managed to keep balance and returned the hug, "I'm so sorry..."

She slowly pulled back, but she gave a small slap on the side of his face. It barely hurt but, she meant it. "Where did you go? Where were you!? I was worried sick, I tell you!" She scolded angrily and slowly took in a breath, placing a small hand above her chest. "My heart can barely take this war, as it is.."

He bowed his head, "I-I didn't mean to worry you, Mama... I just thought-" He bit his tongue to prevent himself from speaking anymore.

"Just thought _what?_ " She asked, making sure she was looking into his eyes.

"Lafayette, why would ever write such a note to us? And yes- we have read it. Martha and I want you to stay," George said.

"And be our son!" She added in, almost sounding like she was pleading.

His eyes widened at the last statement, and they snapped up to look back and forth between Martha and George, "I- Really..?" He sounded hopeful.

George had a faint smile and nodded. "Of course, Gilbert! We love you very much, and would like nothing more than to call you our own. That is..i-if you'll have us..?" Martha asked him with the same hope.

"O-oui!" His face lit up and he pulled them both in for a hug, "Yes! I would love nothing more!"

George held the two close as they all joyously laughed together or something like what. "Oh Gilbert, you have made us so happy," Martha smiled and nodded and what George said then gently cupped Laf's cheeks. "But please my love... don't leave the house without us knowing, okay? "

He nodded, "Never again."

Martha smiled and gently kissed his nose then hugged him. "Thank you..now Come a long. I need to get you fresh sheets and then tuck you in," she said, literally pulling him up the stairs.

Lafayette stumbled after her, but followed her back to his room. "Merci."

She held him close as they walked. She opened the door and went in, making him sit down on the long couch and went right to work on the bed. "Here we are!" She was done in record time! Martha walked over, gently taking his hands and walked him over to the bed and had him sit on the side. "Do you need new clothes, dear? "

"Non non, I'll be fine," Lafayette waved his hand dismissively and smiled. He slid his bag off his shoulder and onto the floor next to the bed. A sneeze caught him off guard and sent his head spinning. He let out a small groan as he rested a hand on his head.

"Oooh, poor dear," she gushed and hugged him again, kissing his head a few times then taking off his shoes and his coat, putting them to the side, and had him lay down. "Would you like some water dear? Have you eaten at all this morning? "

"Yes… and no," he now knew better than to lie about stuff like that now. As much as he didn't want to he knew he would have to eventually if he wanted to live.

Martha nodded and gently brushed her fingers against his cheek. "Alright dear," she said softly, getting up and closed all the curtains do it'd be easier for him to sleep. "Your father and I love you very much dear," she said, her heart fluttered, still ecstatic about having son. She gently kissed his head, and left the room to get his food.

"Je t'aime aussi," he couldn't help but smile sleepily at the word father. He closed his eyes and whispered, "Bonne... nuit."

Sleep, once again, blessed him with the mellow darkness that lulled him to a world free of worry.

He could eat later.


End file.
